


Sympathetic Deceit Week 2018

by patentpending



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Acting, Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining, Prank Wars, Sympathetic Deceit Week, logan sanders is an idiot for science, sympathetic deceit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-28
Updated: 2018-08-03
Packaged: 2019-06-17 19:57:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 15,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15468867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/patentpending/pseuds/patentpending
Summary: A collection of one-shots for Sympathetic Deceit Week!1. Virgil is preoccupied with his boyfriend, and his best friend, D.C., is feeling a bit insecure.  High School AU.2. Roman and Deceit do improv together.  Flirting, breaking character, and sword fighting ensues.3.  Logan is going to find out the texture of Deceit’s scales by any means necessary.  For science only, obviously.  Deceit is alarmed.  Patton, Virgil, and Roman wonder when these idiots will get their acts together.4. Deceit is part snake, and his boyfriends deal with it.  Shenanigans, snuggles, and sleepy love confessions result.  (Absolutely no plot; just fluff)5. Patton and Deceit deal with pining after each other in the most obvious way: a prank war.6.  Deceit knows that he is in love with Anxiety, but now Anxiety is with the light sides, and he is alone in the subconscious.7. Five times Deceit heard the sides say “I love you” to each other, and one time they all said it to him.





	1. untitled

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, all! I'm aware that SDW was a while ago, but I recently realized that I never posted the one-shots I did for it on here. So, here you go! I'll update one fic per day.
> 
> The prompt for Day One was "friendship"

Virgil had a boyfriend.

Virgil had an insanely extra, over dramatic, theatre nerd of a boyfriend.

D.C. Sanders, his insanely extra, over dramatic, theatre nerd of a best friend was definitely _not_ jealous.

It wasn’t because D.C. wanted to date Virgil - honestly, feeding himself to his ball python sounded more pleasant than making kissy faces at his best friend since diapers - it was because Virgil barely had time for D.C. anymore.  He was always over at Roman’s house or on a date or otherwise preoccupied with the actor.  And every time the best friends did met up, all Virgil wanted to do was sprawl over D.C.’s bedspread and go starry-eyed over how ‘Roman walked me to all of my classes today and got me an entire bouquet of roses; I was so embarrassed, but it was actually kinda sweet.  D.C., isn’t that the sweetest thing ever?’

D.C. usually just scowled where Virgil couldn’t see him and made some sort of disparaging comment.  “Honestly, you deserve  _so_ much more.”

Virgil, fluent in D.C.-ish by this point, would just laugh sheepishly, hiding his red face inside his oversized hoodie.  He didn’t know that D.C. was telling the truth for once.

D.C. shoved those intrusive thoughts out of his mind for now.  It was fine.  After all, he and Virgil were hanging out after school today on  _a Friday night_.  Prime date night, and Virgil was spending it with his best friend instead of Roman.

Ha.  Get wrecked, princey.

At least, they were going to hang out if Virgil would ever hurry up and get here already.  D.C. stood in front of the emo’s locker, awkwardly looking over the band logos he had seen a million times before in an attempt to look like he was doing anything but getting stood-up.  He glanced at the wall clock.  School had let out half an hour ago.

Was there a word for getting stood up when it wasn’t a date?  A platonic stood-up?  Friend-stood-up?

D.C. was muttering variations of ‘frood-up’ to himself when he heard an unfortunately familiar booming laugh intermingling with a deep chuckle.  He scowled to himself before whirling around with a more-or-less neutral expression.  “Virgil,”  He greeted, smiling softly.  His pleasant expression twitched.  “Roman.”  He eyed the place where their hands were linked together.

Virgil just flashed a smirk at him, but Roman took the opportunity to soliloquize about how nice it was to see him, using more ‘thou’s than even Elizabeth II would find appropriate.  Ugh; there was a smile creeping across D.C.’s face without his consent.  This entire hating his best friend’s boyfriend thing would go a lot more smoothly if Roman wasn’t so infuriatingly likable.  He was just D.C.’s level of extra, albeit in a different way, and they had actually had some pretty fun times together in drama club.

On stage, as in life, Roman was the perfect prince to D.C.’s heinous villain.  He eyed Virgil and wondered if this made the emo the damsel in distress D.C. was keeping locked in a tower.

He suddenly tuned back into the conversation to realize that Virgil and Roman were both looking at him expectantly.  “I was  _totally_ paying attention!”  He blurted out hastily.

Roman threw back his head and guffawed.  Actually guffawed.  D.C. hadn’t known that people outside of Tolkien novels could do that.  “Of course you were!”  He proclaimed.  “Who could fail to pay attention when such a dashing prince is speaking?”

D.C. exchanged amused glances with Virgil.  “ _Absolutely_  no one,”  They snarked in unison.

Roman’s eyes widened theatrically.  “Dear god, there’s two of them.”

“When you could barely handle one,”  Virgil quipped, nudging him playfully.

“Oh, trust me,”  Roman turned to him, purring.  “I can handle you plenty.”  He winked.

“Seriously?”  D.C. sighed to himself as Virgil flushed bright red.  “Right in front of my salad?”

Roman glanced at the clock and scowled.  “Unfortunately, I must depart.”  He pressed a kiss to the back of Virgil’s hand.  “Until next time, Panic! at the Everywhere,”  He murmured with far more sincerity than any situation in high school could ever warrant.

“What was it that I was  _totally_  listening to?”  D.C. asked as soon as the actor was safely gone.

Virgil rolled his eyes.  “We dropped by the drama room on the way to check the cast list for Little Shop of Horrors. You got Audrey II. You didn’t think I was late for no reason, did you?”

D.C. did  _not_  squeak and flail around at all.  Nor did he sing “Feed Me, Seymour” the entire way to the car.

Halfway there, Virgil realized D.C. hadn’t answered his question.

They blasted All Time Low in the car, howling along with no regard for the tune and knowledge of only about half of the words, but utter confidence.

They arrived at Virgil’s house, where D.C. immediately pulled on the yellow snuggle designated specifically for him.  “How are you cold?”  Virgil sighed.  “It’s the end of May.”

D.C. just wrapped up in more blankets until he was a snake burrito.  “I’m  _totally_  going to listen to the guy who wears a black hoodie in the middle of July.”  He sniffed, then hopped down the hallway to Virgil’s room with as much dignity as he could muster.

“Do you want popcorn?”  Virgil called after him.

 _“No_  extra butter!”  He yelled back.

After the snack was procured, Virgil entered his room to find D.C. curled up on his bed, hair mussed and tongue stuck out slightly as he lounged in a patch of sunlight.  He whipped his phone out and snapped a picture.

“ _Don’t_  delete that,”  D.C. muttered, cracking open his lighter brown eye.

Virgil smirked.  “If you insist.”  He pocketed the phone.

“I hate you,”  The snake-burrito muttered.

“Love you too.”  Virgil smirked, plopping down on the bed next to him and leaning back obnoxiously.

A strangled sound came from inside the mound of blankets.  “You’re crushing-” a cough. “Um, I mean. You’re definitely  _not_  crushing me.”

“What’s that?”  Virgil asked, munching on the popcorn.  “I can’t hear you over this extra buttery popcorn.”

That spurred D.C. to slither out of his blanket cave. He wriggled forwards, making grabby hands at the bowl.  Virgil passed it over to him, watching as he tossed up several pieces in a futile attempt to catch them in his mouth.

“Wow,”  The emo marveled.  “I have never seen such a tremendous failure in my entire life.”

“You’ve  _definitely_  seen your own eyeshadow then,”  D.C. retorted, giving up and eating out of his hand like a boring person.

“Wow,”  Virgil deadpanned. “A joke about my makeup. Haven’t heard that one before.”  He glanced at D.C. after a beat of silence.  “What?”  He asked, nabbing a handful of popcorn.  “No joke about how I’ve been hanging out with you too much?”

D.C. fiddled with a kernel, breaking off parts of it and dropping them back in the bowl until there was nothing of it left.  “You  _have_  been,”  He hissed before he could stop himself.

“Wha-”  Virgil blinked as understanding came over him.  “Is this about Roman?”

“You  _so_  hang out with me more than him nowadays,”  D.C. muttered morosely, scratching at the eczema patch on his cheek.

“Stop that.”  Virgil gently smacked his hand down in a routine as familiar to both of them as breathing.  He pulled a small tube of lotion out of his pocket and handed it to D.C.

“Look,”  He sighed as his best friend rubbed the lotion on.  “I know that I’ve been a little… preoccupied with Roman lately. It’s just exciting, you know? I’ve never had a boyfriend before, and I’m still trying to figure out the whole ‘healthy balance’ thing or whatever.”  He looked at his companion pleadingly.  “But if you felt like this, why didn’t you tell me?”

D.C. shrugged one shoulder, looking studiously at a poster of Gerard Way.  “I wanted to rain on your black parade.”

“First of all, solid joke; you’ve been hanging out with Patton too much.”

D.C. vaguely wondered how you could hang out with your own twin too much.

“Second of all, that is the dumbest thing I have ever heard you say, and that is stacked up a list that includes ‘I  _couldn’t_  eat a rat if I wanted to’, ‘I  _don’t_  think Logan is possessed by Windows Eight’, and ‘we would make an  _awful_  ska band’.”  Virgil listed.

D.C. scowled.  “I  _don’t_  still stand by ‘Ska-matic experience’.”

“For good reason,”  Virgil snarked.  “Look, ignoring your awful idea to make me learn bass guitar-”

“-which you are actually  _terrible_  at-”

“-I know it.  You’re my best friend, okay? It’s my job to give crippling anxiety to whoever makes you upset. So now I have to give myself crippling anxiety. Look, it’s working already!”

Despite himself, D.C. laughed.  “I  _definitely_  dislike Roman,”  He confessed, softening. “He’s  _not_  right for you, and I’m  _not_  happy for you, but…” He trailed off, helpless.  “I  _do_  want to get pushed to the side.”

Virgil’s forehead creased.  “I’m sorry,”  He said.  “I had no idea you felt like this.”  He twisted the ends of his hoodie sleeves around his fingers.  “I’ll do better, okay? I’ll try to keep everything even. But you’ve got to tell me this stuff, alright?”

D.C. nodded slowly so there was no confusion.  “I’m just…  _not_ worried that you’ll stop paying attention to me now that you’ve got a boyfriend.”

“Hey, I would never,”  Virgil said softly, pulling him in for a hug. “You’re too good for me.  I’m the luckiest guy ever to have you as a best friend.”

“True.” D.C. snuggled closer, tucking his head under Virgil’s chin.  

Virgil narrowed his eyes even as he wrapped his arms around his best friend more comfortably, settling in for the long haul.  “Was that one a lie or not?”

D.C. smirked. “Yes.”

“Seriously, you snake?!”

_“Totally.”_

“Don’t do this to me, man.”

“I would  _never.”_


	2. Playing The Part

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roman and Deceit do improv together. Flirting, breaking character, and sword fighting ensue.
> 
> Romantic Roceit!

“I have you now, heinous creature!”  Roman Sanders, hero of the mindscape, protector of the innocent, prince and knight extraordinaire, roared, lunging forward to meet his adversary.

“Oh,”  Deceit Sanders, villain of the mindscape, evil genius, and mastermind, hissed back, grinning at him through fanged teeth.  “I’m  _quite_  sure of it.”

Roman swung his sword, relishing in the sound of cold metal slicing through air.  “En garde, villain! You may have bested me in our last glorious battle, when you planted bombs under the capitol building, but now… what?”

Deceit had held up a gloved hand and was now pouting quite spectacularly. “We’re  _not_  doing the superhero one right now. It was  _definitely_  bombs and  _not_  a portal to another dimension.”

“Ah, shoot.”  Roman winced sheepishly.  “My bad.”  He cleared his throat and drew himself upright, pointing his sword at Deceit dramatically as his voice boomed across the stage.  “You may have bested me in our last glorious battle, when you threw the capitol building into another dimension, but now there is nowhere to run! Face me, and face justice!”

“Ha!”  Deceit scoffed, raising his own weapon in response.  “It’ll take me… three.”

Roman blinked, sword tip drooping slightly.  “Three?”

“Three,”  Deceit echoed mildly before suddenly unleashing a flurry of attacks.  Steel clashed against steel, sending brilliant sparks showering down.  The snakey side’s lips were moving slightly, and Roman squinted, trying to decipher his words.  Deceit took the opportunity to break through his defenses, hitting his arm with the weapon.  It touched him harmlessly - one of Roman’s own creations wouldn’t dare hurt him - but he still scowled.  

“One,”  Deceit hissed, and Roman realized that he had been counting.

He launched a counterattack, feet dancing lightly over the stage as he drove the other side back with the sheer ferocity of his approach.  Where he was all strength and passion, however, Deceit was cunning and skill.  They were more than each other’s match in every way.  Deceit dodged the worst of Roman’s onslaught effortlessly, retaliating by slipping to the side and jabbing Roman in the torso.  He grinned viciously.  “That’s two, your highness!”

“Can it, Jeckyll and Lied!”  Roman roared, swinging his weapon and hitting Deceit’s shoulder.  Deceit blocked his next blow, and they stood there for a moment, locked weapons trembling in the small space between them.  Their eyes met over the clashed steel.  

“This is a contest of strength, snake.”  Roman grinned.  “Are you quite sure you’re willing to take me on?”

“I can _take you_  anyway I please.”  Deceit hooked his leg around Roman’s, and the hero’s face heated.  “But, you’re right” - his sword was starting to slip - “brutality never was my forte.”  He yanked his leg away, and Roman crashed to the ground with a yelp.

“Three,”  Deceit said softly, standing over him and pressing the cold tip of the sword into the soft flesh of Roman’s neck.  The hero glared up at him, chest heaving and eyes dark with something other than fear.  He licked his lips, and Deceit’s eyes followed the movement with interest.

Roman muttered something under his breath, and Deceit leaned forward gloatingly.  “What was that? I  _definitely_  heard you.”

“I said” - Roman’s eyes snapped up to meet his - “I wouldn’t expect you to fall for your own trick, Fib-eler on the Roof.”

“Wha-”  Whatever lie Deceit was about to concoct was cut off by Roman sweeping his legs out from under him and throwing himself backwards to avoid the sword.  Deceit hit the ground with a thud, and Roman winced.  “You good?”

Deceit rolled into his back, waving him off.  “It  _definitely_  hurt.”

“Then arise, villain!”  Roman cried as he did so.  “And face me in glorious combat once more!”

“Oh, my dear prince,”  Deceit crooned, reaching inside his cape and pulling out a silver remote with a large red button.  “However will you fight me when you’re so occupied with my  _Snake Bots!_ ”  He slammed his hand down on the button, cackling.

Nothing happened.

Roman stared at him incredulously.  “You do not have Snake Bots.”

Deceit narrowed his eyes.  “Snake Bots,”  He insisted.

Roman sighed.  “Fine. Snake Bots.”  He waved a hand, and an army of yellow robotic snakes materialized, surrounding the hero and hissing.  They responded to Deceit’s every command, and soon, Roman was disarmed.  The creative side cried out dramatically as his sword was torn from his hand and his limbs were bound by writhing serpents.

“I have you now, your majesty!”  The villain hissed triumphantly.

“Why are you doing this?”  Roman cried dramatically.  He bit down his grin as the other side’s eyes sparkled.  This was always Deceit’s favorite part.

“Well, you see…”  Deceit began, smirking in delight at the sheer evil of his actions.  “Throughout my entire life, this world has brought me nothing but pain!  As a child, I was abandoned by my parents.  I was found and raised by a colony of nomadic boa pythons, but when the winters grew too cold, my foster family perished!  So, now, I must repay the cruelty that has been dealt to me with evil!  I shall use my  _very_  scientifically feasible lasers to melt the polar ice caps, heating up the Earth and completing my revenge.”  He released a low, evil chuckle that slowly climbed into a frightening cackle that sent chills running down his captive’s spine.

Roman raised his eyebrows, impressed.  “That was a good one, Jack the Fibber.”

Deceit preened.  “I _haven’t_ been practicing.”

A snake was wrapping itself around Roman’s throat, but he didn’t even seem to notice as he smiled at the other side softly.  “I can tell.”

Deceit flushed, and the two of them simply stared at each other for a long moment.  In the audience, Patton coughed awkwardly.

Roman snapped back into the story, making one of the snakes bite him.  The fangs retracted as soon as they brushed his skin, but he roared in pain anyway, thrashing around.  Deceit released another evil laugh, relishing in his supposed victory.  “There’s no chance of escape,  _your highness._  Give up now!”

“Never!”  Roman cried, wrenching an arm free and grabbing his sword.  He hurled it through the air; it clattered to the ground uselessly a few feet away.  “Look! I hit the machine that controls your Snake Bots!”  He waved his hand, and the animatronics dissolved back into the air.  He pointedly ignored the deadpan look Deceit shot him.

The hero leapt to his feet, charging forward and tackling his enemy.  The stage turned soft when they hit it, catching them gently.  The foes grappled, each struggling desperately to win, to mold the world in his image before - as Deceit always let him - Roman got the upperhand.

“I have you now, villain!”  He cried triumphantly, pinning Deceit’s wrists to the floor and straddling him.  He leaned down, smirking.  “Surrender.”

Deceit wriggled his wrists experimentally, but the hero’s grip was far too strong.  “Ah, but you’ve forgotten something!”  He protested, thinking fast. 

“My ultimate, super-secret weapon… that can only be disabled by… kissing me on the lips!”

Roman arched an eyebrow, leaning back on his haunches and releasing the other side’s wrists.  “Really?”

Deceit grinned up at him smugly, remaining on the floor.  “Would I lie, your highness?”

“In more than one way.  It is quite literally your defining feature,” Roman quipped, a small smile curling the edge of his lips.  He shook his head.  “You’re ridiculous; do you know that, Lies and Dolls?”

“ _Don’t_  look at who’s talking!”  Deceit fired back.

“And deprive myself of this gorgeous face?”  Roman grinned.  “I could never.”

“It  _wouldn’t_  be a shame to deprive anyone of such a view,”  Deceit purred, wiggling his eyebrows.

A bright red flush overtook Roman’s face.  “It most certainly would!”  He blustered, waving his arms theatrically.  “It would be a shame to, um-”

“Do you want to stop being gay for five seconds and continue the show you forced us to watch?”  Virgil called from the audience.

“Cease with the heckling, Sweeny Toddler!”  Roman stuck out his tongue.  “And bold of you to assume I would ever want to stop being gay.”  He turned back to Deceit with a sheepish smile, rolling his shoulders and slipping back into his hero character as easily as slipping into a coat.  “Surely you lie, villain!”  He cried dramatically, once again pinning the other side’s wrists to the floor.

“Not about this!”  The villain insisted.  “If the weapon goes off, it takes all of us down with it!  He paused for effect, staring into Roman’s eyes dramatically.  “It’s the only way.”

“Well.”  Roman bit down his grin, leaning down.  “I suppose, if I must.”

For a while, both of their minds deserted them.

They found themselves with Deceit’s fingers twined through Roman’s hair and Roman’s hands fisted in the back of Deceit’s ridiculous super villain cape.  They didn’t break apart until Logan called up at them “So, is that the denouement of this pointless venture?”

They jumped apart, rising to their feet.  Roman proclaimed “The End!” and Deceit lied  _“Not_  the end!” as they took their bows with red faces.

In the audience of the mindscape theatre, Patton applauded enthusiastically as Logan squinted his eyes, muttering something about the fracturing of the fourth wall, and Virgil flashed a thumbs up, smirking.  “I ship it.”


	3. FOR SCIENCE!!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: someone is punched by accident
> 
> Summary: Logan is going to find out the texture of Deceit’s scales by any means necessary. For science only, obviously. Deceit is alarmed. Patton, Virgil, and Roman wonder when these idiots will get their acts together.
> 
> Romantic loceit!

Logan was a man of scientific intrigue.  He valued facts and knowledge, craving the acquirement of data he previously did not possess.  Thus, it was only logical that the presence of one such piece of data, dangled so tantalizingly close, was sufficient to drive him a bit… crazy.

“I need to know,”  He hissed suddenly, slamming his book shut.

Virgil, by now accustomed to his sudden outbursts of passion for knowledge (although it had been a very painful learning process that had resulted in Logan being punched in the face a few times; fight-or-flight reflexes were no joke), looked up from his phone and made a vague humming sound, which Logan took as permission to continue speaking.

“Virgil, it is absolutely imperative that I find out if our housemate of falsehood’s scales are slimy or smooth.”

Virgil groaned, pushing his headphones down to hang about his neck.  “Seriously, Logan, this again?  He’s not going to let you touch them, dude.”

“Always serious,” Logic said seriously, indicating his serious blue necktie with a serious expression to indicate just how serious he was, Virgil.  “And as he will not grant me permission, I shall simply have to resort to a more… extreme methodology.”

Anxiety groaned, pressing a hand into his stomach to ward off the distress growing there.  “Nothing good will come of this,”  He predicted darkly.

He wasn’t entirely incorrect.

_Method Number One: Casual Contact_

“Scientist’s log - Day One,”  Logan murmured lowly into his pocket tape recorder.  As required of all great scientific inquiries, he intended on recording his data and experimental procedure.  “Following the law of Occam’s razor, I shall begin with the most simplistic approach and merely attempt to touch the scales.  Any subsequent reaction shall guide my further ventures.”  He clicked the tape off, pocketing it.

He strolled into the kitchen, where the other sides were already assembled for dinner.  He sat down in his usual chair at the corner between Patton and Roman.  Deceit was directly across from him.  “Well,”  The logical side said, attempting to establish as much normalcy as possible.  “This looks absolutely delicious, Virgil.”

The other side flushed, burrowing into his hoodie.  “Yeah, well, I can’t exactly let you morons starve to death,”  He scoffed, trying to hide his pleased smile.

Logan hummed noncommittally, letting the natural flow of conversation wash over him in Roman’s booming laugh, Virgil’s gravily snark, and Patton’s bubbly chirp.  He looked across the table and realized that Deceit wasn’t speaking much either.  “Pass the potatoes, would you, Deceit?”

“Absolutely not,”  The liar said, leaning forward to hand them over.  As casually as possible, Logan reached out both hands, one to take the bowl and one to stroke the side of Deceit’s face.  Unfortunately, the other side noticed, jerking away and dropping the food.  It clattered to the table noisily, spilling mashed potatoes across the table.

“Whoopsie-daisies!”  Patton called, rising and bustling over to get some paper towels.  “Don’t worry; Papa Patton’s got the papas!”

Deceit and Logic stared each other down over the fluffy mound of ruin.  The snake narrowed his eyes.  “What’s your game?”

“I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about,”  Logan said stiffly.

Deceit rolled his eyes.  “Yes,  _do_  lie.   _Not_  like it’s  _my_  job or anything.”  He pushed his chair away from the table and stalked off.

Logan’s narrowed eyes followed the snake’s retreating form.  He pulled out his recorder, murmuring into it lowly enough that the other sides couldn’t hear.  “Methodology one failed.  Proceed with further options.”

_Method Number Two: Element of Surprise_

“Scientist’s Log - Day Three.  If casual contact bears no metaphorical fruits, it only stands to reason that the element of surprise shall assist me in my endeavors,”  Logan monologued.  His voice echoed slightly in his surroundings, but that was only to be expected.  He huddled into himself, pulling his knees up to his chest.  “After another attempt at casual contact yesterday, I have formulated a plan that is sure to work.”  He heard shuffling from outside and hastily clicked the recorder off.

The low rumble of Deceit’s voice traveled through the heavy oak door, settling somewhere deep inside of Logan’s chest.  When this endeavor was finished, he’d have to conduct further inquiries as to the particular resonance of the other side’s voice.  While they all theoretically had the same vocal chords, something about the snake’s metaphorical silver tongue seemed to carry over into his tone.  It was rather… pleasing.

Logan batted the long cloaks of Deceit’s wardrobe away from his face, scowling.  Honestly, why was it taking the liar so long to open his closet?  He was certainly  (Logan mentally riffled through his vocab cards)  Extra, so it served to reason that he would change outfits fairly often.  However, Logan had been huddling in the bottom of Deceit’s armoire for bordering on five hours now to no avail.

The dull tread of heavy boots neared, and Logan tensed up, excitement flooding his brain.  The door swung open, letting in a stream of light, and Logan pounced on the other side, pinning him to the ground.

“Aha!”  He cried triumphantly then promptly received a fist to his face.  He hissed in pain, falling back.  “Deceit, what th-”  He focused his eyes, unsure if he had just received a concussion.  “Virgil?”

“Dude, what the heck!?”  Virgil cried, quickly sitting up and drawing his knees into his chest, eyeing the other side warily.  “What was that?”

Logan adjusted his tie awkwardly.  “I thought you were Deceit.”

Virgil stared at him incredulously.  “That somehow makes it better?”

Deceit, who was standing to the side, watching this display with a mixture of amusement and alarm, spoke up.  “I hope you two  _aren’t_  alright.”

Virgil waved him off.  “I’m fine, Dee.”  He looked at Logan and winced.  “You might want to get some ice on that eye though.”

Logan prodded at it gingerly and winced in agreement.

“We _don’t_  want to know what you were going in there though.”  Deceit stopped him from leaving, narrowing his eyes at the other side.  “We  _haven’t_  been looking for you.”

Logic tilted his head.  “Whatever for?”

Anxiety laughed incredulously.  “You were straight-up gone for five hours, dude.  We were getting worried.  Deceit tore up downstairs looking for you.”

Logan blinked at the liar.  “You did?”

Deceit, realizing that there was no possible way he could verbally respond to that without sounding like a sappy idiot, shrugged.

“Oh,”  Logan cleared his throat.  “Thank you then.  My sincerest apologies for causing you undue alarm.  Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must find an ice pack.”  He strolled out of the door on stiff legs with as much dignity as he could muster, mentally analyzing the plausibility of hiding in Deceit’s shower.

_Method Number Three: Speed_

Deceit  _definitely_  knew what was going on.  He was in  _no_  way confused and slightly scared by Logan randomly popping up everywhere (his closet, the refrigerator, the bookshelf, _his shower)_  and trying to… grab his face?

Okay, he had absolutely no idea what was happening. Vaguely, he wondered if there was any particular reason (other than the usual list) that the other side’s would want to put a bit out on him.  He would have pegged Creativity for the hit man, but he could be wrong.  Logic did have that five-seconds from snapping, repressed nerd vibe.  Wearing that tie  _all the time?_ There was definitely a bondage kink hiding behind that clean-cut exterior.

He shook his head.  He was just being paranoid, and thinking about slightly sexy nerds who probably had bondage kinks wasn’t helping his mental state any.  He had just been on edge lately.  He could’ve sworn that he kept seeing flashes of movement out of the corner of his eye.

He hissed, refocusing on the sewing needle in his hand.  He and Roman were having another improv session in a few days, and he wanted his super villain costume to be way cooler than any stupid hero outfit.  It was as he was embroidering little yellow snakes on the collar that he saw it: a blue-and-black blur at the edge of his vision.

Immediately, Deceit snapped his head in its direction.  Nothing.  He refocused his attention on the costume, trying to ignore the bristling scales on the back of his neck.

There it was again.  He darted his eyes over, trying not to let the tension in his shoulders grow too noticeable.  Nothing.

The needle work became sloppy as his hands began to shake.  What was happening?

The blur came again, dangerously close to touching the scaled side of his face.  Deceit threw himself flat against the couch, staring at the ceiling with wide eyes as his heart hammered against his ribs.

He was surprised Virgil hadn’t been called in yet, what with the adrenaline rushing through his blood.

He waited for a long moment, but nothing happened.  Hesitantly, he poked his head up, tongue out to sniff for danger.

The blur hurled itself directly at him.

Deceit ducked, letting Logic - one hand desperately reaching out - fly over the back of the couch.  They made eye contact in the second that Logan was hovering over the sofa, alarmed and frustrated, respectively.   Logic landed on the carpet with a thud as the other side jumped to his feet.

“WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS?!”  He hissed.

Logan roared back.  “FOR SCIENCE!!!”

_Method Number Four: Ambush_

This was definitely a fantastic idea, no matter what Virgil said.  

Logan stared down at the living room intently, fishing his recorder out of his pocket.  “Scientist’s log - day six. After previous attempts have failed, I have been forced to resort to a rather unorthodox method. Nonetheless, I am confident that, if for naught but the sheer audacity of this particular venture, I shall succeed.”  

He put it away and continued to peer down at the commons. He tensed up as footsteps approached, but relaxed as it proved to be Patton, humming something cheerful as he padded into the kitchen.

“Salutations, Patton,”  He called.

“Hey, Lo-”  Patton cut himself off, looking around in confusion.  “Logan?”  He did a complete turn, scanning the room, but he could not see his fellow side. “Where’d you go?”

“I am in a more elevated position than you might expect.”

Patton froze then slowly lifted his head to see Logan, attached to the ceiling with a variety of straps in a nest-like weave.  “So, you’re just  _hanging around?”_

Logan huffed out an exasperated breath.  “I am partaking in no such childish past time. I am in the midst of a serious scientific investigation. Deceit has evaded all of my attempts thus far, but I shall prevail.”  He narrowed his eyes.  “I must know what texture his scales are.”

Patton blinked.  “So let me get this straight-”

Somewhere across the mindscape, Roman yelled out “Impossible for us!”

“-you want to know what Deceit’s scales feel like, so you tied yourself to the ceiling, and you’re gonna drop down and touch them?”

Logan nodded, satisfied.  “Ingenious, is it not?”

Patton smiled, fondly exasperated.  “Have you considered just asking him to touch them?”

Logan dismissed him.  “Wouldn’t work.  Please clear the way, Patton.  I require this venture to be unforeseen.”

Patton shook his head, grinning.  “Okay, I won’t  _tie_  you up for too long.  You’ve got that handled yourself!”

Logan groaned as Patton bounced off, calling over his shoulder “let me know if you need a snack!”

Logic ignored him, staring intently at the doorway.  After a few mistakes in almost getting punched in the face by Virgil (again) and being caught bridal-style by Roman, Logan strapped himself in the web more firmly, ignoring Patton’s giggles.

“This is for science, Patton!”  He called.

“Suuure it is, Lo!”  He responded before whispering to Roman “should we tell him?”

“Nah,”  Roman chortled softly, peeking out of the kitchen at the nerd.  “He’ll figure it out eventually.  He just can’t differentiate a crush from science.”

“I don’t know if I’m embarrassed for him, or enjoying that I’m not the one everyone’s staring at for once,”  Virgil murmured, grabbing a handful of popcorn.

At that moment, Deceit slithered into the room.

Logan waited with bated breath for him to come into range, then, with a wild cackle, he dropped down from the ceiling.

Or he would’ve, if his foot hadn’t gotten caught in the webbing.  Instead he jerked to a stop halfway down, dangling awkwardly in midair.  Always one to adapt quickly, he attempted to touch Deceit as he swung forward.

The liar jumped back, narrowly avoiding Logan’s reaching hand.  Logan practically howled with frustration as he swung backwards, away from the coveted scales.

Deceit looked from Logan, hanging upside down,  to the rope nest on the ceiling and back at Logan.  “I knew you had bondage kink!”  He cried triumphantly before blanching.  “Shoot.  Um. I mean. You definitely  _don’t_  have a bondage kink.”

Logan scrunched his brow.  “Pardon?”

Deceit smirked, raising his gloved hands in mock-surrender.  “ _Don’t_  go for it.  I’m  _so_  judging.”  He winked.  “ _Don’t_  tell me if you need any help with that.”

A red flush crept across the bridge of Logan’s nose.  “I most certainly do not!”

“Oh, so you  _don’t_  handle all of that yourself.  Got it.”

“FALSEHOOD!!!” Logan screeched, not quite sure what he was protesting.

Deceit grinned through fanged teeth.  “I’m just  _not_  saying that you are the one hanging from a very intricately woven rope cage.”

“He’s got you there!”  Patton piped up from the kitchen, munching on his popcorn.

Deceit just smirked, patted Logan on the cheek patronizingly, and sauntered away.

Logan scowled after his retreating figure.  “Patton?”  He asked, slowly rotating in mid-air.  “I require assistance.”  He was starting to lose feeling in his toes.

Patton giggled, hiding his grin behind his hands.  “I’ll go get the emergency science ladder.”

_Method Number Five: ???_

Logan was ready to metaphorically lose it, whatever ‘it’ proved to be.  Despite all of his best efforts, Deceit had managed to evade his attempts like the ‘slimy boi’ Thomas so often referred to him as.

Logan sat on the couch, scowling.  Slimy.  Or smooth?  Slimy or smooth?  He grabbed a throw pillow from the couch and started to pummel it, releasing frustrated little screams with his punches, as was necessary for stress relief.  It was totally logical and by no means governed by his emotions.  At all.

“Someone  _isn’t_  lying to themself.”  Deceit sauntered into the room, smirking, saw who was attacking an innocent pillow, and promptly backed out of the room.

“No!”  Logan snapped his head up, pinning the other side in place with a glare.  “You stay!”

Deceit froze in the doorway, a small squeak escaping his lips as the shorter side prowled towards him.  “I do  _not_  fear for my life right now.”

“I. Need.”  Logan growled, stopping when he was toe-to-toe with Deceit.  “To. Know. What. Texture. Your. Scales. Are.”

“Seriously? That’s what this was all about?” Deceit, so exasperated that he momentarily forgot to lie, rolled his eyes.  “You could’ve just asked.  I would’ve said  _no.”_

Logan immediately perked up.  “Really?!”  He asked, hand already twitching at his side.

Deceit huffed out a sigh even as a smile quirked the corner of his mouth.  _“No.”_

Logan cleared his throat, trying to tamp down his excited grin.  “Well then,”  He said with all due pomp and pageantry.  “Deceit ‘insert name here’ Sanders, may I, Logic ‘Logan’ Sanders, please touch your scales?”

Deceit nodded with equal ceremony.   _“No,”_  He said, leaning down and tilting his head to provide be logical side access.

Logan reached up a hand and gently stroked the side of his face.  He smiled.  “Smooth,”  He said, brimming with contentment.  “Your scales are smooth.”

“Really?”  Deceit drawled.  “I had absolutely  _no_  idea.”

Logan marveled at the way the other side’s jaw  muscles moved under his skin, the way his scales slid over each other, the odd beauty of his yellow eye.  “You,”  He breathed, eyes shining.  “Are utterly fascinating.”  He made an excited noise.  “Oh! Your face is warming. I was unaware that you could blush.”

“I  _have_  before,”  Deceit lied, voice slightly strangled.

“You are magnificent,”  Logan marveled.  “Do you shed like a snake as well? Can you unhinge your jaw? How much of your body is scaled? Can you-”

Deceit held up a hand, cutting the barrage of inquiries off.  “I  _won’t_  answer anymore questions…”  He hesitated, a small, nervous smile curling his lips.  “Over dinner?”

Logan blinked.  “Well, if you require sustenance, I have no objection to having a meal.”

“I  _didn’t_  mean more of the…”  Deceit coughed into a gloved hand.  “‘Courtship’ type of dinner.”

“Ah,”  Logan’s stomach metaphorically caged a large selection of rhopalocera.  “I have no objection to that either.”  He adjusted his glasses, looking studiously over the other side’s shoulder.  “In fact, I would be quite amenable.”

Later, Logan sat alone in his room and pulled out his tape recorder. “Conclusion: Deceit’s scales are smooth, and there may be something to this whole ‘healthy communication’ Patton keeps endorsing. Further inquiries shall be made” - he grinned - “over dinner.”  He tapped his finger against the device’s plastic edge.  “Additional research: is Deceit’s tongue forked like a snake’s or not?”  He smirked.  “Repeated contact of the oral cavities should prove to be a sufficient data-collecting methodology.”

He slipped the tape recorder in his pocket and sauntered off.  He had to go make out with a snake.

For science.


	4. Anguiform

The sides all had different theories regarding Deceit’s scales.  Roman swore up and down that they were just really extra stage makeup. Patton thought that they could just be bad eczema. Virgil darkly predicted that Deceit was the first of them to come down with some awful disease that would eventually kill them all.

In the end, however, it was Logan’s theory that proved to be the most accurate: Deceit was simply part snake.

“As varied and intense the peculiarities of Thomas’s mind are, I see no reason why this should not be the case,”  Logan shrugged.  “I suppose we shall simply have to accommodate.”

It took a… large amount of accommodation at first.  The sides were still wary of the liar up to the moment that he joined their relationship, and, although he and Virgil had previously been friends, age and distance and distrust had worn their bond to a tattered thread.

The first peculiarity was, of course, the most obvious.  Deceit had scales and one snake eye.  On the surface, this presented no pressing problems, but time proved that his skin behaved like actual snake skin, shedding and all.  Deceit grew irritable during this time, constantly scratching at his face while insisting to anyone who would listen that he was ‘perfectly fine, don’t I look fine?’ and that ‘no intense itching and pain going down here, nope.’

When the scratching persisted, however, Deceit left them with no choice.

“Deceit, it imperative that the scratching ceases.  You are at risk of garnering an infection, and none of us have a medical degree,”  Logic reasoned, holding out the accursed devise.

_“Yesss,”_  Deceit whined, desperately trying to get past Roman, who was blocking the door.

“Come on, Lyin’ King.”  Roman crossed his arms.  “You’ve got to.”

“I  _do_  want to!”  He scrambled to the other door, only to find Patton looking at him with the Dad Glare.

“Now, kiddo,”  Patton lectured.  “It’s for your own good.  Do you really want to keep scratching at your face until you hurt yourself?”

“I  _don’t_  do what I want!”  Deceit hissed, trying to sink out, but only being grabbed by Virgil for his troubles.

“Come on, snake face.”  Virgil ignored Deceit struggling against his grip and dragged him over to Logan.

“ _Don’t_  unhand me, raccoon eyes!”  Deceit tried futilely to slither out of Anxiety’s grasp.

“Wow, never heard that one before.”  Virgil rolled his eyes, plopping Deceit down in front of Logic.

Deceit glared at Logan and the heinous torture device in his hands before sighing.  “ _Not_  fine.”  He begrudgingly tilted his neck.  “ _Don’t_ go ahead.”

“Glad you’ve come to your senses,”  Logan hummed, satisfied as he clipped the Elizabethan collar around Deceit’s neck.

“He wears the cone of shame!”  Roman cried out dramatically.

Deceit slunk down on the couch, glaring at them all over the collar’s rim.  “I  _didn’t_  know you were going to say that,”  He muttered morosely.  He reached up to scratch his face out of habit, but his gloved fingers only encountered smooth plastic.

“There we go!”  Patton cheered.  “It’s working already.”

“Don’t worry, buddy.”  Virgil, smirking, plopped down on the couch next to him, slinging his arm over the liar’s shoulders.  “Only two more weeks of this.”

The other sides also piled on the couch with him in a tangle of limbs and warmth, offering him assurances.

“I hate you all,”  He hissed.  Luckily, the collar hid the small smile on his lips.

The second peculiarity was that Deceit was, quite literally, cold-blooded.  Turns out, the dramatic cloak, bowler hat, and gloves weren’t just for the villain aesthetic (although Deceit  _definitely_ objected to that as well).  Deceit simply needed them to stay warm (and he  _didn’t_  want to look cool).

This resulted in the lying side often  _physically_  lying wherever he could find warmth.  It was not an altogether uncommon occurrence for one of the other sides to trip over him, lounging in a pool of sunlight.  This resulted in bouts of hissing (from both parties, if Virgil was the one who startled him) and one very grumpy snake.

It was especially bad in the winter.  Deceit wrapped himself in layers of blankets, and any clothes left unattended were in danger of becoming the snake’s prey.  Time after time, Patton’s cardigan or Roman’s shirt or Virgil’s hoodie or Logan’s onesie was found wrapped around Deceit.  Their frustration melted away whenever they saw him, sleepy and drowning in clothes several sizes too large.

It wasn’t just the other side’s clothes that apparently existed only to keep him warm; it was dangerous to stay still and exude heat for too long, or Deceit would slither over.  He would prop his chin up on the arm of the couch, eyeing the other side until he noticed.

The subsequent responses varied.

Patton would smile at him gently, patting the space beside him and draping a blanket over them both.   They would fall asleep there, between soft kisses and singing along to the Disney movie flickering on the TV.

Logan would arch an eyebrow.  “Yes?”

Deceit would look at him expectantly.  “Nothing.”

“Obviously it is not nothing, or you wouldn’t be glaring at me so fervently.”

“I  _so_  am glaring.”

“Do you wish to share body heat through physical contact to ameliorate your cold-blooded tendencies?”

“ _No_.”

“Very well then.”  Logan would easily scoop Deceit up and place the snake in his lap.  “This is the optimal position for maximum shared surface area, as is needed.  It’s only logical.”

“‘Logical’, hm?”  Deceit would shift slightly, smirking when Logan’s fingers tightened on his hips.

“Very.”  Logan’s voice would come out low and rough.  

They would get distracted shortly thereafter.

Roman would beam at him, inquiring as to the nature of his most uncomfortable position.  Deceit would flash his Cheshire grin and inform the other side of his evil plan to destroy society as they knew it by staying in this exact position for the rest of eternity.

“Well, I simply cannot allow that.”  Roman would take Deceit’s gloved hand in his own, pulling him closer.  “I suppose I shall have to keep you here instead.”

He would recline, and Deceit would press himself against his chest, practically purring with contentment.  Roman was the warmest of all of them.  “Curse you,”  He would murmur.

“The hero always prevails!”  Roman would laugh, brushing a kiss against the snake’s forehead.

Virgil would narrow his eyes at the snake.  Deceit would narrow his eyes right back.

“You want to snuggle, don’t you?”  Virgil would ask.

Deceit would stick his nose in the air and adamantly deny it as he moved to sit next to the other side.

“Good,”  Virgil would say, slinging an arm over his shoulders.  “Because I would never snuggle you.  You’re too much of a slimy boy.”

“I’d never snuggle you either,”  Deceit would grouse, curling up against his side.  “You look like a raccoon and you listen to Welcome to the Black parade on loop everyday.”

“You act like you don’t like Guys and Dolls when I’ve seen you doing the choreography to Singing in the Rain.”  Virgil would lace their fingers together.

“Slander.”  Deceit would press a kiss to his jaw.  “Absolute slander.”

As it turned out, however, all of this warmth was actually necessary.  When Deceit grew too cold, his blood moved more slowly through his body, making him lethargic and without his usual inhibitions.

Such was the occasion his boyfriends faced one cold winter’s day.

“Hey, you guyssss,”  Deceit hissed, syllables slurring into each other.  “You guyssss.”  He yawned, revealing fanged teeth. “I gotta… I don’t gotta tell you something.”  He frowned.  “Wait, no, I don… I don’t know.  Lying is confusing.  I gotta work at it and I’m too tired for that.”

“Deceit, you’re freezing!”  Anxiety quickly took his hoodie off and bundled the snake up inside of it.  “What were you doing outside?”

Deceit pouted, looking up at him from under the rim of his sodden bowler hat.  “Snow,”  He muttered petulantly.

“Your blood is moving at a decelerated rate due to your lowered body temperature.  It is imperative that you are warmed, as you may not be receiving adequate circulation to your brain.”  Logan gestured at Deceit.  “Roman, if you would.”

The prince winked at his boyfriend.  “You got it, clockwork bore-nge.”  He scooped Deceit up in his arms, smiling at the sudden, confused snake blep.  “Come here, Fibbin’.”

“I always knew Dee was too  _cool_  for us, but this is ridiculous.”

Virgil sighed.  “Not the time, Pat.”

“I MAKE PUNS WHEN I’M NERVOUS; YOU KNOW THAT.”

“I think it’s time to get the Lyin’ King here to bed,”  Roman interrupted, eyeing Patton warily.

Deceit blinked up at Roman.  “No, I gotta…”  He yawned again.  “I haven’t said it before but it’s true so I should, but I’m not good at true.”

“Whatever it is can wait until you warm up, snake face.”  Virgil began prodding Roman upstairs, towards their bedroom.

“It’s ‘mportant though,”  Deceit mumbled as Roman gently laid him down.

“I’m sure it is, Kiddo.”  Patton peeled off his shoes and socks as the snake started to drop off.

“Logan ‘n Patton ‘n Virgil ‘n Roman.”  Deceit smiled at them sleepily.  “I love you.”

They all froze for a moment, staring at him.

It was Logan who finally choked out what they were all thinking.  “What?”

“Love you,”  Deceit mumbled into his pillow before finally falling asleep.

“Did he just…?”  The corner of Virgil’s mouth flirted with something dangerously close to a grin.

Logan adjusted his tie, pleased.  “I do believe so.”

“He loves us!”  Patton grabbed Roman’s arm, practically vibrating with excitement.

Roman tried to shush him, but the effect was lost with the beam spread across his face.  “You’ll wake him up, padre.”

After that, there was nothing to do but crawl into bed and sleep.

The morning, Deceit shot straight up in bed and started hissing.  “I remember nothing and I meant none of it!”  Deceit protested a nonexistent accusation, stealing Roman’s blanket.  He firmly ignored the offended prince noises.

Patton, always the best at speaking Deceit, blinked sleepily and shifted closer to Roman, sharing his blanket with the prince.  “Well that’s good to know.”

He leaned forward and kissed Deceit softly.  

“Because we love you too.”

 


	5. Gotcha!

Patton Sanders is becoming paranoid.  

Three days have passed, and Deceit has yet to retaliate for the flood of tiny rubber ducks in his bathroom.  He must be planning something big.

Morality sidles down the hallway to his room, eyes darting around furtively.  He gets there without incident.  He is unsure if this is a good or a bad thing.  He double-checks his bed for short-sheeting or some unpleasant surprise before crawling under the baby blue quilt.  He resolves to sleep with one eye open, but, before he can stop himself, he dozes off.

Patton wakes up on the ceiling.

He shrieks, scrambling to grab handfuls of blanket, as if that will ground, er,  _ceiling_  him.  He curls up in a ball and scrunches his eyes closed, waiting for the end.

Nothing happens.

Slowly, he peels his eyes open and realizes that he isn’t on the ceiling.  Everything else, however, is.  He tumbles out of bed, buzzing from place to place as he marvels at the effort this must’ve took.

He giggles when he notices that all of the items on his desk have been attached to it with carefully applied tape.

He turns around, smiling, when he hears a low chuckle join his laughter.

Deceit lounges against the doorframe, looking at Patton with a softness the liar rarely lets the others see.  “You  _don’t_  seem a bit shaken  **up**  there.”

Patton bounds towards him, eyes sparkling.  “A pun  _and_  a prank?”  He stops right in front of the other side, bouncing slightly on his toes.  “Whatever did I do to deserve you?”

“Commit some grievously unforgivable crime in a past life.”  The effect of his ominous words are undermined by the way he goes cross eyed when Patton lightly rubs their noses together.

“Well, I don’t really  _karma_ -self, but that sounds about right to me.”  Patton pauses a moment, squinting at him.  “You’re going to get all of this down, right?”

“ _Absolutely_  not,”  Deceit pledges.  “And  _not_  before noon.”

Patton hums, contented, and laces their fingers together, dragging him down for breakfast.

He finds himself accidentally mooning over the other side, to the point where Virgil has to nudge him a few times to get him to tune back into the conversation.  He just can’t help it though!  Deceit is snarky and funny and surprisingly sweet and he’s got that trying-too-hard-to-be-cool vibe that makes him a huge dork and he’s the only one that can keep up with Patton’s epic pranks.

His eyes trace the gentle slope of Deceit’s neck, and he vaguely wonders if it’s vain to pine after someone who looks almost exactly like him.  He pauses, several levers in his mind flipping into place.

Deceit looks almost exactly like him.

All of the others shift away when Patton begins to chuckle evilly over his French toast.

 

That night, he employs Roman’s excellent costume makeup skills.

“Well?”  Roman beams as Patton scrutinizes himself in the mirror.  “Marvelous, am I not?”

Patton looks up at him with one snake eye and a half-scaled face, grinning through fanged teeth.  “It’s perfect.”

 

The next morning, he sneaks into Deceit’s room and removes the back of the vanity mirror.  The snake sleeps deeply, so he is still groggy when he pulls himself over to the vanity to get ready.

Patton wipes the grin off of his face and puts on his best sleepy face, popping up just as Deceit sits down in front of the mirror.  He copies the other side as best he can, drowsily finger-combing his hair and pretending to rub lotion into his fake scales.

Right as Deceit is about to turn, Patton winks.  The liar’s head immediately snaps back, and Patton immediately copies his surprised expression, mirroring as it shifted over to suspicion then dismissal.

Patton has to up his mirroring game - it’s a real time for  _reflection_ \- as the final dredges of sleep abandon the other side.  He is eternally grateful that he also printed out a copy of Deceit’s room to use as a backdrop.  He grabs his prop brush, raking it through his hair.  

Just as Deceit starts to relax again, Patton sticks out his tongue.

Deceit promptly falls out of his chair.  Patton has to stifle his giggles as he hides behind the vanity.  He peeks over the edge of the mirror frame to see Deceit doing the same thing.  They sit up, side and apparent reflection eyeing each other warily.  They lean closer to each other, until Patton can feel the other man’s breath.

Well, the gig was about to be up anyway.

Swiftly, he reaches out and boops Deceit’s nose.

Across the mindscape, Virgil tumbles out of bed in shock, Roman instantly unsheaths his katana, and Logan jumps towards the nearest jar of Crofters to defend it when they hear Deceit’s high-pitched scream.

“Patton?!”  Deceit hisses, sprawled out on the floor with a hand pressed to his chest.  “You almost gave me a-”  He stops, composing himself and rising.  “I mean.  You  _didn’t_  almost give me a heart attack.  I  _knew_  it was you the whole time.”  He clears his throat and brushes an imaginary piece of lint off of his clothes then stalks to the bed and wraps himself up in a his mountain of blankets.  

“Aww, come on, Dee,”  Patton coos at the snake burrito as he sits down next to him.  “You aren’t really mad at me” - a hint of uncertainty enters his voice - “are you?”

Deceit rolls over, facing Morality.  It’s slightly jarring to see his own face staring back, but then he sees the slightest difference in the roundness of his cheeks, the softness of his eyes, the lovely sweep of his lips, and he wonders how he could’ve ever been fooled.  _“Yes,”_   He lies, shifting closer and resting his head on Patton’s lap.  The other side gently removed his hat and begins snaking his fingers through the snake’s curls.  “I’m  _so_  furious.  That was a  _terrible_  prank.  I’m  _unimpressed_.”  A small smirk spreads across his face.  “I’ll  _never_  top it.”

Patton laughs, feeling something in his chest start to glow.  “I’d like to see you try.”

 

The pranks come fast and furious after that, attack after counter-attack after counter-counter-attack.

“DECEIT!”   Patton cries, stomping into the room.  “Did you replace all of my photo albums with the Bee Movie script?”

The snake grins.  “I would  _never_.  And if I did, it  _wouldn’t_  be because you replaced all of my lotions with tanner.”

Roman throws back his head and laughs.  “Oh, you looked like a Cheeto for days!”

The mention of his last successful prank cheers Patton up, and he slinks into the kitchen as inconspicuously as a literal ray of sunshine and joy can.  

Virgil follows him and clamors onto the counter, shoulders hunched as he huddles in on himself.  “Pat?”  He hesitates.  “Can I talk to you about something?”

“Sure, kiddo!”  Patton chirps, slicing open a packet of dry lime Jello for some unknown reason.  “What’s up?”

“That’s the thing”- he scratches at his ear awkwardly, wishing he was just born as a Tim Burton cartoon - “it’s about you… and Deceit.”

It would be impossible to miss the way Patton’s face lights up at the mention of the other side.

“Oh, have our pranks been bugging you, kiddo?”  Patton stops pouring the powder into mesh bags, looking at him.  “I’m sorry, we can tone it back if you want.”

“Nah.”  Virgil waves him off.  “It’s not that.  I just, um, kinda noticed that you get this, uh, look?  Whenever he’s around?  And I just…”  He breaks off into anxious muttering for a moment, grousing about confrontation and socialization and all other manner of atrocities.  

Patton abandons his mysterious project, lying a comforting hand on Virgil’s arm.  “Hey,”  He says quietly.  “It’s okay.  What’s up?”

“Do you like him?”  Virgil blurts out, so quickly that it takes several seconds for Patton to disentangle his words.

He tucks a stray lock of hair behind his ear and grins.  “That obvious, huh?”

“I’m just anxious he knows too.  He isn’t exactly the… best communicator.”

Patton shrugs, unconcerned but not dismissive.  “Dee just has a different way of showing affection, kiddo.  That doesn’t make it any less real.”

Virgil nods, but his eyes remain troubled, sitting in his face like storm clouds, gray and tumultuous.  “I just worry for you, Pat. He is, by definition, a liar.  How can that be healthy?”

Patton turns to Virgil, gasping.  “Virgil!  I’m surprised at you!  He can’t help lying anymore than you can help being anxious or I can help being a dad.”

Virgil looks down at his socked feet, swinging them through the air.  “I know that, I just… worry.”

Patton softens, pressing a kiss to his strange, dark son’s forehead.  “I’ll be alright, kiddo.”  

There are other reasons he thinks this; ones that he won’t even share with his precious storm cloud.  Reasons like he is the second-biggest liar after the snake.  Reasons like he lies to protect his family.  Reasons like he lies to keep them happy.  Reasons like he lies to pretend that he is happy.

Reasons like Deceit is the only one who has ever been able to see through all of his fake laughter.

He smiles, and Virgil realizes that it is different from his other smiles, soft and true instead of blinding and cheesy.  “I love him.”  He boops Virgil’s nose with his finger.  “And I love you!”

Virgil can’t help but smile at that.  “You too, Pat.”

“Oh, good!”  Patton flourishes a sheet of tiny Shrek faces and a pair of scissors summoned from who knows where.  “Then you’ll have no objection to helping me cover up faces on the posters in his room with Shrek.”

Virgil stares at the cartoon solemnly for a moment before looking up and catching Patton’s eye.  “It’s all ogre now.”

 

It’s as they tape the last green face up and are proudly surveying their handiwork that Virgil suddenly thinks to ask.  “What was the jello for, by the way?”

Patton smiles, something dangerously mischievous glinting in his eyes.  “You’ll see, but keep it on the down jel-low, okay?”

Later, Deceit gets out of the shower covered head to toe in green slime.

“THE SLIMEY BOY!”  Thomas cries dramatically as he appears before them, scowling.

“Ah, I see.”  Logan nods his head.  “A few packets of gelatin hidden in the shower cap result in a thin green sheen of a viscous substance.  Clever.”

Virgil snorts a laugh as Deceit stalks to Patton, hissing.

“Heya, kiddo!”  Patton’s smile is blinding.  “Something up?”

“You  _didn’t_  get me all sticky.”  Deceit’s eyes narrow.

“Oh, did I?”  Patton shrugs.  “Didn’t even notice.”

Deceit pauses a moment, staring at the other side before coming to a decision.  He reaches out and yanks Patton towards him.  Patton’s heart hammers against his chest as Deceit wraps his arms around him.

Then, he leans forward and kisses him.

“Ewww.”  Roman wrinkles his nose as they pull apart.  “Now you’re all slimy too.”

Patton looks down to see the slime plastering his shirt against his skin.  He can’t bring himself to care.

Deceit presses their foreheads together and grins down at him.  “Gotcha.”


	6. pretty lies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I forgot to post a chapter yesterday, so, yay! two updates for you.
> 
> Trigger warnings: non-graphic accidental injury; existentialism
> 
> This one is angsty, be warned

Anxiety left the night before last.

It wasn’t a surprise to either of them; he had been called out of the subconscious more and more often lately, away from this land of shadows and into the light. He was with them now: Creativity, Logic, and Morality.

He even got a solid form. That had been the first hint.

Here in the subconscious, aspects of Thomas were not so much people as the sides who lived in the light were; they were beings, vague notions that ebbed and flowed into each other, overlapping and intermingling.

He and Anxiety had tended to overlap quite a bit. From the very beginning, they could sense the Otherness of themselves, how they seemed different from the other vague notions floating around, how they seemed more solid.

They found that same Otherness in each other.

It was love, if either of them were complete enough to feel such a thing.

Deceit had never told him.  He should’ve, but he didn’t.  He hadn’t thought it was necessary, but maybe it was.  Maybe it could’ve, somehow, let Anxiety stay.

But he didn’t.

And now Anxiety is gone.

Deceit carefully takes off his gloves, his hat, and his cape, folding what can be folded and stacking them neatly on the corner of his bed until he is clad only in slacks and a button-down.  He looks  at his scaled hands as if they belong to a stranger.  They are skeletal and long, ending in sharp talons.  With his eyes, he traces the jagged lines of his fingers as they wrap themselves around the door’s handle, closing it with a soft thud.

Slowly, deliberately, his talons press into the pulpy wood of the door.  He waits until he can feel the board bumping against his fingertips, and then he rips it to shreds.  He screams and howls and hisses, tearing off chunks of wood and paint with only his bare hands and his despair.

When he can see glimmers of outside through the door, he moves on to the walls, tearing down the posters of Brendon Urie Virgil had put up, his own posters of musicals; he claws at the murky green walls until he can see the sheet rock, then he claws through that too, roaring with something deeper than anger and less selfish than sorrow.

A shard of rock flies off, cutting his cheek.

One of his nails snaps, then another, but he does not feel it.  His brain and his body disconnect entirely, each only working enough to keep him moving.   Keep moving.  If you don’t, you’ll collapse, and you might never get up.

 

Anxiety had been hesitant to first show Deceit his physical form, the one Thomas had created for him.  But Deceit always had a silver tongue.  Before long, a man in a black hoodie with shadows on his sharp, pale face and a mop of dark brown hair peered out at him through dull gray eyes.

Deceit, still intangible, swirled around him in a dark cloud.  “ _Hideous_ ,”  He murmured reverently. “Absolutely  _hideous_.”  He pressed a tendril of smoke forward, cooling the hot flush of the other side’s cheeks.

He wondered what it would be like to touch him for real.

Later that night, he formed himself.  As far as he knew, no one but Thomas had ever given a side a form before, but he did it.  It was wrong, of course.  He had scales and eyes of different colors and fanged teeth and curled hair, but it was a body and it was his.

He loved it.

“Hello, Anxiety,”  He said, unsurprised to hear that his voice had an underlying hiss.

Anxiety’s head snapped up, and he immediately swung into a defensive stance.  “Who are you?”  He barked.  “Where’s-”  He paused, narrowing his eyes and releasing some of the tension from his shoulders.  “Deceit?”

The liar smirked.  “Not in the flesh.”

For a while, they were happy enough.

Then Anxiety was summoned to the consciousness more and more often.  He started to see Deceit less and less until weeks passed between brief visits.  They were slow dancing in a burning room, aware of what was happening but so afraid to acknowledge it.  The longer they stayed, the more it hurt, but neither was willing to let go.  All they could do was cling to each other a little tighter, push their feelings down a little deeper, and pray that this could last just a little longer.

“I have a name,”  Anxiety said one day, huddled up in his hoodie and plucking at a stray thread.

Ice water spread through Deceit’s veins, paralyzing him from the inside out.  He suddenly couldn’t breathe.  He wondered if his stupid body even had lungs.  His mouth moved of its own accord, snark falling from his misshapen lips.  “Oh?  Am I in the presence of a genuine side of light?”  He took his hat off with a flourish, bowing dramatically to Anxiety.  “ _Truly_ , I am not worthy of such an honor, my liege.”

Anxiety snorted, slowly uncurling himself.  “I didn’t think that ‘truly’ was even in your vocabulary, peasant.”

“You  _do_  have room to talk, as you only speak in My Chemical Romance quotes.”

Anxiety just snorted a laugh, and Deceit felt the ice water thaw.

“Do you want to know what it is?”  Anxiety asked later that night, his low rumble traveling through the dark as they laid in their separate beds, facing each other.

There was no way Deceit was responding to that verbally, so he just shook his head emphatically.

The other side was thrown for a moment.  “But… it’s my name.”

“ **Name** ,”  Deceit hissed back, and Anxiety flinched back at the venom in his voice.  He took Anxiety’s hand in a wordless apology and softened his voice.  “ _Everything’s_  in a name.  A rose by any other name would smell just as  _sour_.”

Anxiety snatched his hand away, scowling.  “Fine then. Be like that.”

He turned away, and Deceit was left to stare at his tense back until the liar’s eyes were too heavy to keep open.

When he woke up, Anxiety was gone.

He had been summoned away in the night, and he never came back.

Anxiety left to become a more permanent aspect of Thomas with a name and a body and friends who weren’t emotionally compromised serial liars, and Deceit was left alone with only the gashes in the walls and the ghost of Anxiety, trailing through his memories as company.

 

He stares at the wrecked room, chest heaving.  He is acutely aware of the aching in his hands; they are littered with scratches.  He drifts to the sink, washing off splitters and bits of rock.  He glances up and catches his reflection in the mirror.  He grimaces at his scaled face, his mismatched eyes, the fresh pink line that runs along his cheek.

He tries to convince himself that he’ll be fine, that he doesn’t need Anxiety, that he can be okay here, lurking in the misty gray.

But the one person he has never been able to lie to is himself.

He pulls his arm back and slams his fist into the glass.

 

Years pass.  Deceit still loves Anxiety more deeply than he can bear.  He has not seen him once.

Thomas really does try his best to be an honest person; Deceit supposes that he cannot fault him for that.  For the most part, Deceit stays here, in the murky subconscious, where they are not even real enough to be given proper forms.

Some days, all he does is focus on not fading away.

Then, Thomas misses Joan’s performance, and Deceit sees the best shot he’ll ever get.

He stares at himself in the cracked mirror until Morality’s round face and soft eyes look back.  He tries out that happy grin, but it is still too sharp, too much a baring of the teeth.  Oh well.  At least the faked joy is real enough.

There is a tugging in the back of his mind as Thomas realizes he might be able to just lie, and Deceit appears in the upper mindscape.

Anxiety looks different now.  He is warmer, fuller. Some of the hollowness of his cheeks has filled out, and his eyes are less haunted than Deceit remembers.  He wears purple.  He is still so achingly beautiful.  Deceit stares at him through Patton’s eyes, perhaps a bit too hungrily, for Anxiety seems suspicious.

He throws himself into the debate, doing everything he can to keep from falling to his knees and begging.  Please.  Please lie to Joan.  He needs to stay here, with the sunlight and the moon and Anxiety.  Please don’t send him back.  Let him stay with Anxiety.

There’s something he needs to tell him.

But, of course, it doesn’t work.  Morality shows up, all bright smiles and sparkling eyes.  Deceit cannot bring himself to hate him.

He sinks down, back into the darkness.

He stares at the scars he has put on his walls, the tattered posters that still hang there stubbornly, the murky green light that shines under his door.  He can feel his form undoing itself; he doesn’t really need it anymore.  He lies back on his bed and wonders if it would really be so bad to let himself be absorbed into Thomas’s mind.  It would certainly be much less exhausting than this constant focus on merely keeping himself from flying apart.  He would still crop up on occasion - whenever Thomas needed to tell a white lie or keep a secret - he just wouldn’t be himself.  He would be stripped of his individuality, of the name he has given himself.  Of his feelings for Anxiety.

He feels his fingers start to fade out of the physical plane, and he jerks them back with a jolt, clutching them to his chest.

For all of those years, he and Anxiety were the only things holding each other together.  Now, he has learned how exhausting it can be to exist without something to exist for.

He curls up on his bed and stares at his hands, trying to make sure he won’t fade away by accident.

Then, much to his surprise, he is summoned back.

Thomas and the others are not here, but Anxiety stands before him, eyes shut and muttering to himself.  “I don’t want to see him, I don’t want to see him, I don’t want to see him.”

Lies, Deceit realizes.  He smiles.  Anxiety always has been far more clever than anyone else realizes.

“I’ll just leave then,”  Deceit lies, as he is occasionally prone to doing.

Anxiety’s eyes snap open, and Deceit finds himself breathless for a moment, staring into those gray eyes.  Not for the first time, he is forced to admit that Anxiety is better off here.  The moonlight has shone into his eyes and resides there, shining still.

Anxiety breathes his name like a prayer.  “Deceit.”

He cannot say Anxiety’s name.  He does not know it still.  He wants to tell him his name, but is unsure that is a good idea.  It’s not a real name after all; there is not enough Self in those of the subconscious to receive one.  “Hello,” He says instead.  “I  _haven’t_  missed you at all.”

“Deceit.”  Anxiety crosses the room in two strides of his long legs, and Deceit flinches back, knowing that he is just as angry now as he was then.

Instead of a slap, however, Anxiety wraps the snake up in his arms, tucking his chin on the dark side’s head.  “Deceit.”

The side in question starts to snark about a broken record, but Anxiety’s next words cut him off.  “I missed you so much.”

And, with that, how can Deceit do anything but pull back and kiss him.

“Virgil,”  Anxiety murmurs, when they break away.   “My name is Virgil.”

Deceit kisses him again, unwilling to unwind his arms from around Anxiety’s neck.  “Virgil,”  He says, the name bittersweet on his tongue.  Virgil is the happy one, the cared for one, the one he loves although he is far.   Anxiety is the scared one, the one who clings to his very essence to keep it from fading away, the one he loves although he will leave him again and again.  “I have  _nothing_  to tell you.”  He licks his suddenly dry lips.  “And it’s  _not_  that… that I love you.”

Anxiety stills, and Deceit looks up to see those moon-gray eyes shining.  “Really?”

Deceit nods.  “Absolutely not.”

Anxiety wraps him up again, clutching him to his chest.  They both marvel at the fact that he can do that.  That they are here and they are alive and they are solid and they are together.

“I love you too,”  Virgil murmurs.  “I missed you so much, Dee.  I just… I missed you.”

“You  _won’t_  miss me again in a minute, I suppose.”  Deceit pulls away.  “I can stay  _forever_.”

“You can stay,”  Virgil blurts out impulsively.  “We’ll find a way.  Thomas can tell white lies or keep secrets or we can find a loophole or something!”  It is a desperate pledge, a wild, unfounded gamble, but Virgil smiles, tremulous and tender, at him, and he cannot resist.  “Stay.”

So they do.

And he does.


	7. True Love For Liars

Deceit had a bit of a habit of eavesdropping.  He couldn’t help it; he was, by nature, a snoop.  You had to hear what was being said to know what lies were being told.

It was  _such_  a bother though.  He had  _so_  many more interesting and social things to do then lurk around the mindscape, slithering into dark corners and listening to the people who called themselves a family.  Or, fam-I-LY, as Morality referred to it.

Deceit had snorted despite himself when he heard that for the first time.  “I love you.”  Those words didn’t mean anything.  They were a fairytale parents told their children about so that would think there was some point to all of this.

But he was fine on his own.  Love was a fantasy other people needed, but not Deceit.

Case in point: the other sides said it to each other  _all the time._

**1.**

It first happened by Thomas’s command.  Thomas suggested it, and Morality immediately started pouring out affection, throwing out “I love you”s like candy at a parade.

Logic spoke haltingly, but managed to share some words of affirmation.

Creativity boomed with laughter and praised their good looks, throwing Morality a subtle wink.  Morality giggled.

Even Anxiety managed to mutter that it was an implied thing.

Deceit lurked, as he usually did, under the surface of their perceptions, listening.  Odd, they all managed to say- or imply - it to each other.

For some reason, he wanted to pop up, to sling himself into the middle of their happy love fest just to see what would happen.  Although, of course, he already knew that.  Thomas would scream, Morality would grow angry, Creativity would attack him, Anxiety would hurl words of abuse, and Logic would watch impassively from the sidelines.

That was a hard pass.

He stalked off, ignoring the odd twisting in his stomach.  He must’ve eaten something bad.

**2.**

Surprisingly, it was Logan who spontaneously said it first.

He and Roman were sitting in the plush mindscape library, brows furrowed as they hunched over a chessboard.  Logan’s moves were textbook precise and strategic while Roman had a knack for ridiculous schemes and dramatic sacrifices that more often than not turned out in his favor.

Deceit was curled up on the top of a nearby bookshelf.  Their games were surprisingly close-matched.  It was interesting to see how quickly either of them could turn the tide.

Roman drummed his fingers against the board, staring at it intently as Logan lounged back, a cocky smirk curling his lips.

“It’s quite a useless venture, Roman.”  He brought one foot up to rest on the opposite knee.  “You cannot move your king without putting him in a vulnerable position, I’ve already castled to adequately defend mine, and I’ve taken your queen.”  He mock-toasted with a glass of water from the nearby side table.  “But, by all means, put forth your best effort.”  He licked his lips.  “You are quite a pleasant visual stimuli when you squirm.”

Deceit rolled his eyes.  The man had no shame.  None of them did, actually.  In recent weeks, the entire mindscape had been a four-way flirting battle.

He just watched from the sidelines and laughed.  It was all he could do.

Because it was all he wanted to do!

He shook his head and refocused on the game.

Roman had noticed Logan’s positioning too.  “Stop trying to distract me, Mach-evil-lian.”  The drumming of his fingers intensified.  “I’m thinking.”

“Don’t hurt yourself.”  Logan quipped as Deceit mumbled it.

Logan looked up, startled.  “Did you hear something?”

Deceit shrunk back.

“The only thing I can hear is you sobbing in defeat after this.”  Roman swiftly moved his knight.  “Checkmate.”

Logan breathed in sharply, rocketing himself forward to check that the prince was right.  “You used my limited mobility with castling to pin me in place,”  He murmured.  “Oh, that’s clever. That is good. I did not see that one coming.”

Roman preened, about to boast some more before Logan’s next words stopped him dead.

Logan sighed.  “Oh, I love you.”

“What?”  Roman squeaked out.

Logan realized what he had just said, but then, with a courage Deceit could never possess, decided to roll with it.  “I said that I love you.”  He adjusted his tie, soothing himself with the smooth slide of silk. “It is true, so there is no reason I would do otherwise.”

A flush was painting Roman’s ears. “Yeah, no, I heard that, I just, um. Didn’t see that one coming, and…”  He trailed off wincing.  “Do over?”

“By all means.”  The corner of Logan’s mouth quirked. “Roman, I love you.”

Roman drew himself up and smiled at the nerd.  “Logan, I love you too.”

“Excellent.”  Logan nodded briskly. “I take it you will wish to explore this new aspect of our relationship then discuss adding Patton and Virgil?”

This time, Roman couldn’t stop the blush or the smile that spread across his face.  “Yes please.”

“Very well then,”  Logan said, then was shoving the table aside to climb into Roman’s lap and kiss him.

And that was Deceit’s cue.  He slithered down from the shelf, sliding away.

“‘I love you’,”  He snorted, the words dull and foreign on his tongue. “Ridiculous.”

“I love you” was the single most dangerous phrase in the English language.  Wars were waged over  _love_ ; blood was shed over  _love_ ; hearts were broken and loved were torn apart over  _love_.

(It already had been done)

It was ridiculous.  It wasn’t like love was even a thing that could apply to him.   **True**  love, they called it.   Deceit was, by definition, excluded.

Better to keep to himself. He was self-preservation, after all.  Being selfish was what he was best at.  The others were better off without him, and he was better off alone.

He was.

He  _was_.

(He wasn’t)

**3.**

Roman had a different way of saying it.  Sure, he did the grand proclamations, but everyone knew those were more for dramatic effect than anything else.

No, what…  interested Deceit was the prince’s quieter utterances, the ones that were almost to himself.  He said the words to others, but they were just as much for him as a thing to marvel at.

Especially after all of the other good sides joined Roman and Logan, it was like he physically couldn’t stop saying it.

“I love you,”  He said, handing Logan an over three-hundred page Sherlock fanfiction.

“I love you,”  He murmured into Patton’s hair, pressing the words against him like so many kisses.

“I love you,”  He sighed, exasperated, as Virgil brought out yet another cork board with red string and screenshots of Disney movies.

It was the strangest thing.  To him, there was no rhyme or reason.  He appeared to be in love with the words themselves, with his ability to say them. He said “I love you” like he breathed, without a second thought and as if he would die otherwise.  He delighted in this strange, amazing way to tell the others so easily how he felt.

Roman said “I love you” and was content, because they were true. He was in love.

For some reason, the words hit Deceit’s scaled skin like so many bullets.  He nursed the wounds in private, covering them up with reminders that he didn’t need the others. That he didn’t need anyone.

Then, for whatever reason, he went out again to watch that fam-I-L-Y again and again as they shared their “I love you”s.

He started slithering into the common areas more and more often, wondering if he could maybe catch some of the runoff.

They banished him away at first, but as he proved he wasn’t going to pretend to be Morality again, they started to begrudgingly tolerate his presence.  He coiled up in a corner and watched them.

Roman was probably the worst of them all, because with Roman, Deceit could see the words about to fall from the tip of his tongue.  Sometimes, he thought he caught the prince looking at him with the same softness he usually reserved for Patton, but, no.  The words never came.

It was the stupidest thing that made it happen.  Virgil sneezed.

“I love you,” Roman said automatically then laughed as his own words registered.  “Ah, shoot. Sorry! I meant ‘bless you’.”

“Woah, princey!”  Virgil arched an eyebrow.  “I didn’t know you were into mucophilia.”

“Shut up, Sweeney Todd-ler.”  Roman nudged him.

“You shut up.”  Virgil nudged him back.

Roman grinned.  “Make me.”

“Gladly.”

That entire conversation imbedded itself in Deceit’s brain, looping over and over until he was forced to admit it.

He wanted it.  He wanted it more desperately than he had ever wanted anything else in the world.  He wanted someone to look at him and automatically think “I love you.”

He wanted to curl up against Logan’s chest and hear the words rumbling around in his torso.

He wanted to hold hands with Patton and have the words be delivered with a soft squeeze of his hand.

He wanted to see the way Roman’s eyes sparkled whenever he said it, but, this time, those sparkling eyes would see him.

He wanted to kiss Virgil until their lips were swollen then hear that gravely voice become thick and rough as he gasped the words out.

He wanted someone to say it to him.

For once, he wanted something about his life to be true.

**4.**

“Thanks, Lo!”  Patton pressed a quick kiss to his cheek after Logan handed him a jar from a shelf too tall for Morality to reach.  “Love ya!”

It was so easy for him.  Deceit wasn’t sure if he was envious or sorrowful.  Maybe both.  The two went hand-in-hand after all.

He stared after Patton, marveling at him as he went through his life.  He was just so full of love.  Didn’t he understand that could break him?  He wore his heart on his sleeve, sharing every bit of his kindness with the other sides.  He only locked away his sadness, choosing day after day to give away nothing it affection.

It made absolutely no sense.

He narrowed his eyes, trying to determine if there was a system to it.

Patton said “I love you” after someone helped him.

He helped Patton bake cookies, and Patton thanked him.

Patton said “I love you” after one of the other sides did something cute.

He sprawled out in the sunlight, bleping where he was sure Patton would see him, but Patton just cooed.

Patton said “I love you” after he kissed one of the sides.

No way he was brave enough to try that one.

Patton said “I love you” after one of the sides need comfort.

He knocked on Patton’s door late at night, fabricating some dramatic moral dilemma that Patton saw through immediately.

“Do you need something else, kiddo?”  He asked, smiling wearily.  “I’m kinda tuckered out. I could go to jail for resisting a-rest.”

“No,” Deceit lied.  “No, it’s nothing.”

He turned away, shaking.  He didn’t know what he expected.  It wasn’t like the other sides cared about him.  It wasn’t like he was anything but a villain, a  _dark_  side, a liar.

He was fine alone.

He was  _fine_.

But the next time he heard Patton throw out an “I love you!” so casually, not knowing its worth, not knowing how hard you can work for one,  not knowing how much loving someone (or someones) can cost you, he clenched his fist so tightly that his nails broke skin.

**5.**

It had gotten better.

Marginally so, but still better.  Deceit would take it; it wasn’t like he had a different choice.  The other sides didn’t actively send him away anymore, even seeking him out sometimes.  He and Patton were engaged in an epic prank war.  Logan often sought him out to perform experiments.  Roman liked to drag him into improv sessions.  Virgil curled up near him whenever he was in the commons, quietly relaxing or engaging in snark fests.

It was better.

He was starting to feel like less of an outsider, less of their token villain.

Then, as they were all relaxing in the commons after dinner, Virgil started to bid them all goodnight.

“Night, Pat.”  He gave him a quick kiss.  “Love you.”

He moved down the line, pecking Logan. “And I love you.”

He kissed Roman thoroughly then pulled back and wrinkled his nose.  “You’re alright I guess.”

Roman squawked indignantly, and Virgil snickered.  “Okay, I love you too.”

When he reached him however, Virgil hesitated, small smile twisting from genuine to uncertain, a lie pasted onto his lips.  (Deceit couldn’t help but wish he was the lie on his Virgil’s lips.)  He didn’t say anything, just lifted up the liar’s hat, ruffled the curly hair underneath despite the hissing, and plopped it back down with a smirk, trying to hide his fear - of what, Deceit did not know.  “Later, snake.”  He called, padding out of the room.

The missing “I love you” hung around Deceit like a cloying fog, pressing itself down his ears, his mouth, his nose, until he could barely breathe.

Deceit returned to his book, but he didn’t read it.  He gripped the cover so tightly his knuckles turned white inside of his gloves.

It was never going to happen.  He had been an idiot to think that it would.

The other sides were never going to love a lying snake.  Thomas would be better off if he was gone.

Everyone would.

**+1**

It took less than a day for them to realize that Deceit was gone.

It started with Virgil, the smallest scratching at the corner of his mind that grew and grew until that something was driving him crazy.  Then it spread to Logan, who noticed an anomaly in the usual state of the commons, and Patton, who had an inexplicable sinking feeling in his gut.  It was Roman, however, who first put it into words as he carelessly flopped down on the couch.  “Where’s full-of-shit-cago?”

“THAT’S WHAT’S WRONG!”  The other sides cried in unison, then looked at each other, surprised.

“You noticed it too?”  Patton asked.

“Of course.  I could hardly fail to observe such a deviation from our standard conditions.”

Virgil growled, wrapping his arms around his stomach.  “Something bad happened.”

Thomas groaned.  “Why do you always have to be vague like that?”

“Thomas?”  Patton blinked.  “When’d you get here, kiddo?”

Thomas shrugged.  “I don’t know.  I’m always kind of pushed to the  _side_  in these things?  Pun so intended.”

Patton wiped away a fake tear.  “I’m so proud.”

“Right,”  Roman drawled.  “Are we going to address that Lie Lie Birdie has flew the coup?”

“We are on a roll!”  Patton cheered.

“However clever I may be, that one was entirely unintentional.”

“Well, it’s the thought that counts.”

Thomas pursed his lips.  “Pat, I don’t think you know what that means.”

Logan moved to make his usual long-suffering eye contact with Virgil, only to blanch and back away.  A snarl curled Anxiety’s lips, and his hands were clenched into fists.  “Virgil,”  He started, trying to project ‘soothing vibes’ are you quite-”

 _ **“DECEIT IS GONE,”**_   Virgil snarled, voice distorted and deep.   _ **“DON’T YOU CARE?”**_

They all flinched.

“Of course we care, kiddo,”  Patton said softly.  “But none of us keep blurting out the truth, so I don’t think it’s time to worry yet.”

“It’s always time to worry,”  Virgil muttered, curling up inside his hoodie.

“I believe that is a ‘Bug Mood’,”  Logan announced.

“Um, it’s actually ‘big’, not-so-Great Gatsby,”  Roman interrupted.

“I know it is, but this is no time for discussion of your phallus.”

“Not in front of Thomas!” Patton hissed, clamping his hands over their host’s ears.

Thomas sighed.  “I’m a grown man, Patton.”

“As I was saying!”  Logan snapped.  “Deceit is missing.  We must launch an investigation.”

“Or we can just go to his room and see what’s up,”  Virgil pointed out, looking five seconds away from sprinting there.

“Then what are we waiting for?”  Roman cried.  “Onwards!”

They all sank out.

 

The door to Deceit’s room was locked.  The other four sides and Thomas stood in front of it, staring at the peeling, faded yellow paint.

“Find a key?”  Logan suggested.

“Knock it down?”  Roman cracked his fingers.

“Pick the lock?”  Virgil smirked.

Patton and Thomas eyed them warily.  “Let’s just knock,”  Thomas suggested as Patton did so.

“Dee?”  He called, rapping gently.  “It’s us, kiddo.  We’re just checking on you.”

“ _Don’t_  go away,”  was hissed from inside.

“Okay, then,”  Roman responded.  “We won’t.”

“You  _don’t_  know what I mean!”

“The why not engage us in conversation face-to-face and explain yourself?”  Logan suggested.

“I  _do_  want to!”

“Then come on, snake face!”  Virgil shouted. “Get over here!”

Angry hissing snaked out from under the door, and it banged open, revealing Deceit, eyes bloodshot and nose red.  “Go away!”  He snarled.

“So you  _don’t_  want us to leave, got it.”  Thomas waltzed inside, followed by his sides.

Deceit just hissed at them, slithering away to curl up on a corner of his bed.

“Where’ve you been, kiddo?”  Patton asked softly.  “We were all worried about you.  We haven’t seen you all day.”

“Yes, because all of you care  _so_  much about me,”  He snarled.

“We do actually,”  Virgil said, fiddling with his sleeves.

“Shouldn’t you be happy that I’m backing off from your precious family time?”  Deceit hissed.  “You  _didn’t_  want me gone anyway.”

“Of course we didn’t!”  Patton cried.  “Didn’t not want you, I mean.  As in, it’s wrong to say that we didn’t want you… you know what I mean!”

“You are an intrinsic aspect of Thomas’s survival.”  Logan nodded.

Virgil quirked the side of his mouth up in a smirk.  “I can’t handle all of these idiots by myself.”

“Like it or not”- Roman slung an arm around Deceit’s shoulders, helping him up -  “You’re stuck with us, falsettoes.”

Deceit just looked at all of them helplessly.  “Why?”  He finally asked, voice trembling and cracking on the single syllable.  None of them responded, so he repeated himself.  “Why? Why didn’t you ever tell me?  Why would… how could you even?”  He demanded.

It was Thomas who finally stepped forward.  “Because,”  He said, a half-smile curling his mouth.  “We love you.”  He took Deceit’s hands in his own.  “I love you,”  He told him, pressing a kiss to his scaled cheek.

“As do I!”  Roman proclaimed grandly.  “I am aware that we’ve had our miscommunications in the past, but how could I ever hate the only one around here who rivals me in for love of RENT?”  He softened, turning the other side to face him.  “Jokes aside though, I, um. I really do. Love you that is.  I was scared to tell you, I think we all were, because I didn’t want to scare you off.” A red flush was steadily creeping across his nose.  “I mean jokes not entirely aside because jokes, amiright, but, like, I have romantic feelings for you and-”

“You  _won’t_  shut up if I kiss you, right?”  Deceit thankfully stopped the word-vomit before Roman could grow too loquacious.

Roman nodded emphatically.  “Yes, please, that would be gre-”

He was interrupted by Deceit doing just that as Patton cooed in the background.

Logan cleared his throat, stepping smoothly between them once they broke apart.  “I believe that it is my turn to say something.”  He arched an eyebrow at Roman.  “And I shall be much more succinct.”  He turned to Deceit, ignoring the offended Prince noises.  “I enjoy your company and am interested in pursuing a romantic relationship with you.  It is, indeed, an entirely accurate statement to say that I love you.”

“ _Such_  a romantic,”  Deceit drawled, but he couldn’t help but smile when Logan kissed him.

“My turn!”  Patton cheered, bouncing forward as Logan smoothly stepped aside.  “Gosh, I don’t even know where to start.  You always  _snake_  my day.  You’re funny and you’re sweet and you always know when I’m really feeling okay or not, and I just love you so much!” He threw his arms around Deceit’s neck in a tight hug before gently pressing their lips together.

“Seriously?”  Virgil groused.  “All of you went first and now you’re starting at me. I don’t do speeches; I don’t even know what to say here.”  He groaned, rubbing the nape of his neck awkwardly.  “I don’t know; I don’t think you can even put it into words.  I'm… it’s just…”  He sighed, letting the tension drop from his shoulders.  “News flash: I’m anxious all of the time, but you just… you remind me that I can keep going, that I can make time to care for myself.” 

 A half-smile quirked his lips as he looked at Deceit, the last of his apprehension falling away.  “You remind me that I can breathe.”

He nodded awkwardly for a second.  “Yep. So. I love you. Uh. Can I just get this over with and kiss you now?”

“You better  _not_ ,”  Deceit hissed, stalking forward and devouring him.

Patton slapped a hand over Thomas’s eyes. “Not in front of our little guy!”

Deceit, wearing a smug grin, pulled away from a very dazed Virgil.  “Sorry.”

“Cool, guys.”  Thomas nodded awkwardly, edging away from Patton and flashing a thumbs up.  “That’s great.  All of my personality is in a relationship. Neat. Imma just go…”  He started to walk off, muttering something about being a sixth wheel to himself before Deceit stopped him.

“Thomas?”

He turned back around hopefully.  “Yes?”

“We  _don’t_  want you to join us for a Disney marathon.”

Thomas grinned. “I  _didn’t_  think you’d never ask.”

“That was a double negative, but I suppose it was an interesting way of having the host lie to show full inclusion and acceptance of our falsehood-espousing significant other,”  Logan murmured to himself.

“Stop breaking the fourth wall, Specs.”  Virgil slung an arm around his waist.  “We’ve got a new boyfriend to snuggle.”

Logan sniped back something about how disgusting physical affection was as he leaned closer to Virgil.

Roman and Thomas walked side-by-side into the other room, laughing about anything and everything.

“Come on, kiddo.”  Patton grabbed Deceit’s hand and squeezed lightly, gesturing to where Thomas, Virgil, Logan, and Roman were looking back at them.  “They’re all waiting on you.”

“ _Not_  you too, Pat.”  Deceit smiled then hesitated.  “ _Don’t_  hold on though. I have  _nothing_  to say.”

“What is it?”

Deceit looked at all of them: Roman, with his boundless enthusiasm and passion for life; Logan and his wide-eyed wonder at all the marvels of the world; Patton, holding his hand and looking back at him with unfailing love; Virgil, with his softness hidden behind sharp edges and snark; Thomas, who was all of them and somehow more.

Deceit looked at his family and felt something in his chest settle, a puzzle piece clicking into its perfect place.

“I love you, too.”


End file.
